


Shucked It All Up

by CainReprobus



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CainReprobus/pseuds/CainReprobus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, you just don't want to keep running.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shucked It All Up

**Author's Note:**

> This work is old. Really old. I haven't bothered rereading it, and likely never will, so edits are probably not going to happen. Due to this, I warn you that it might not be all that good. Time goes on after all. But enjoy nonetheless!

Newt was sick to death of running.

He breathed heavily with every step, dashing along the cold stone floors. Everywhere around him, unforgiving ivy-coated monoliths loomed, blocking him in and the rest of the world out. It had been almost two years since he started. Started running. And for one purpose only; to find a way out.

Only one miniscule flicker of hope remained at this point. All the rest had been sucked out of him, yanked bit by bit from his heart, mind and body by years of repetitive failure. His hands inadvertently clenched into fists as if attempting to crush all the pain he’d gone through in one instant. But it didn’t work that way, and Newt knew it better than anyone. Snorting angrily, he raced down the twists and turns of the maze, not even bothering to take out a notebook and mark the ways the walls had moved the night before. It seemed so futile at this point. Everything seemed so futile at this point.

He had only one goal in running today. He would either find the exit and escape the maze, or die trying.

Newt never wanted to see the Glade again.

His heart pounded through his chest at what seemed like a million miles per hour as he approached what was usually the final dead end of his assigned section. If there wasn’t some sort of magical exit that had appeared overnight, he would drop everything and give up right on the spot. The only thing that kept him running was that one last glimmer of hope that he clung to so desperately in his sweaty palms. This would be the last time that he ran.

Finally, he rounded the last corner. His heart seemed to sink through the Earth to hell, his body shook with anger and lost hope, but it was there. The final wall of the maze had not moved an inch, and was no less immovable than it had always been. Letting out a grunt of anguish and denial, Newt lunged at the wall, pressing on it with both hands as hard as he could muster. He clenched his teeth. He balanced his stance. The wall didn’t move.

He collapsed to his knees and struck his head roughly against the wall.

Why would it ever move?

Tears began to fall before he even knew it. It had been a long time since he’d last cried. Surely not since he was a Greenie. It was virtually his job in the Glade, being calm and collected. Sarcastic, yes, but that was only part of his nature. Nobody except for his two closest friends knew what plagued him deep down. How absolutely ruined he’d become in this Maze.

“No…” Newt muttered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, “No no no no no no no…” He continued repeating the word until suddenly his fists clenched again. There was a new strength in him, and he knew he would keep the oath he’d sworn to himself. He couldn’t escape; therefore he would die. Rising up to his feet, Newt turned to face the rest of the maze.

“NO!” Newt screamed, tugging at his hair in festering rage, “I can’t buggin’ take it anymore!” He was just a lab rat. An experiment. Some cruel, massive project, and even though Newt had no way of knowing what it was, he knew that it could ever be important enough. Nothing was worth the loss of so many lives. His body trembled with anger and disconsolation and ached from pain of running so fast. He pushed his long, dirty, blonde hair out of his face and let out a huff.

He had nothing to live for.

Nothing at all.

Newt refused to let his thoughts wander as he climbed. He didn’t dwell on Alby and how kind the current second-in-command had always been to him. He didn’t dwell on Minho, the Keeper that had trained him so well and been there for him through it all. Every thought that could stop him was pushed from his mind and all he focused on was climbing. Grab a vine, pull, step. Grab a vine, pull, step. For a moment, he stopped and looked backwards, examining the confining walls around him. He laughed bitterly as he tugged himself upwards yet again, “At least they’ll make bloody good tombstones…”

His arms shook from the strain, sweat beaded down his forehead and his stringy, greasy hair hung into his face, and yet he didn’t stop climbing. Not until his entire body was racked with trembles and he couldn’t will himself to climb any higher. Maybe he was afraid. Somewhere deep down. But he wouldn’t let himself give up now. He’d made a promise.

“Thanks for nothing, slintheads!” Newt yelled at the sky, “Consider your shuck test a bloody failure!”

He paused before he did it.

Breathe in, breath out, let go, fall.

And letting out a soul-ripping scream, that’s exactly what he did.

He hit the stone with a crack.

* * *

Alby jumped at the sound of a single word being wailed over the Maze walls, breaking the utter desolate silence.

“No!” a voice that was most definitely Newt’s. Alby froze in his tracks, gaping in shock and dissent. His friend had been acting odd over the last couple of days, and this sudden scream of what sounded like resignation was not easing the worry in Alby’s abdomen.

“Newt, what’s wrong with you?” Alby had asked the morning before, elbowing a spaced-out Newt in the ribcage, “You seem like a poor shank that just went through the Changing.”

Newt had blinked away his expression and smiled weakly, “Nah, I’m feeling absolutely brilliant! Just a bit tired is all.” He had playfully punched Alby in the shoulder and turned to walk away.

Alby had narrowed his eyes, “Good that…” he muttered, but he didn’t trust that Newt was being completely honest with him.

Now, Alby knew something was wrong.

The next sentence Newt screamed sent shivers down Alby’s spine.

“I can’t buggin’ take it anymore!”

Instantly, Alby was running again, but not in the same direction. He was headed directly towards Newt’s section. Whatever was going on, Alby knew he had to help. According to the maps and the typical wall layout for this particular day, nobody else would be within hearing range of his friend at this time. Concern and anxiety consumed him as he sprinted, but determination spurred him on. Upon passing through the doors that split Alby’s section from Newt’s, he began to lose his way. He was nowhere near as familiar with the wall layouts of this section as Newt was.

The next sentences Newt cried out almost stopped Alby’s heart. There was no way he was going to stand for another man to be lost out here, especially not his close friend. Then, the scream. As if a bomb had been shot off in Alby’s mind, he took off running again, faster than ever before.

“Newt!” he yelled, twisting and turning through the maze in a desperate attempt to recollect his vague memories of this section and find his way to where he’d heard Newt’s voice coming from. “Shuck…” He muttered, flicking his eyes back and forth in a frenzied panic. Every turn seemed to be a dead end, and a sudden fear of getting completely lost settled in. Finally, he stopped, and before he could even catch his breath, he screamed, “NEWT!”

The word echoed dismally across the walls as if mocking him. Alby was ready to collapse. In the silence that followed, Alby forced himself to catch his breath. As he was about to collapse in defeat, a cough sounded from shockingly close by.

“Calm your klunk, shank.”

It was Newt.

His voice seemed weak, void of emotion and choked with pain.

“What happened Newt?” Alby demanded, running around the corner and turning left. When he spotted Newt on the ground, his breath caught in his throat. His friend was collapsed on the ground, blood oozing from various cuts and scrapes He clutched his arm in pain, teeth clenched. With horror, it dawned on Alby that Newt’s leg was bent into a sickeningly unnatural position. By the tension visible in the teenager’s expression, Alby could tell he was in immeasurable agony.

Newt’s response was growled with utter regret and dismay.

“I shucked up. I shucked it all up.”

Alby rushed to Newt’s side, “Slim it, Newt. Tell me what you mean. What happened to you?”

Newt laughed bitterly, only to wince, “I’m done runnin’, Alby. And honestly, I am so flippin’ sick and tired of this shuck maze.”

Alby stared quizzically back at Newt.

“Are you trying to tell me that you did this to yourself?” he asked incredulously. Newt clenched his teeth to hold back his emotions, but tears flowed again nonetheless, a waterfall of anger, sadness and pain.

“I jumped off the bloody wall, Alby…” he whispered weakly, jaw clenching with the pain of his dislocated leg. Alby leaned down and attempted to comfort him, but he glanced nervously at the setting sun and couldn’t bring himself to stay in one place for any longer. Newt continued speaking, “I jumped off and I sure as shuck didn’t expect to be wide awake and living to feel the bloody pain.”

“Newt…” Alby muttered absently. He wanted to console his injured friend, but they were running out of time, “I’m going to take you back to Homestead.”

“What bloody good’ll it do?” Newt whined, “Just let me finish what I started!” His eyes went dark with fear, “I’d have loved to off myself the easy way, shank, but look how buggin’ well that turned out?” He groaned in pain, “Just leave me for the Grievers.”

Those words caused Alby to blink in shock. Was Newt honestly that convinced that he was worthless? Alby wouldn’t settle for it, but he couldn’t deal with it until they were back in the Glade.

“Slim it, shuckhead…” Alby grunted, attempting to lift Newt off the ground by his armpits, “I never said you got any choice in the matter.” Newt cried out with the roughness of the motion, but tried to escape Alby’s grasp despite the pain. Suddenly, his eyes went wide and he stopped struggling.

“Alby…” he gasped, “I can’t move my right leg!”

Alby could only grunt in response. That was bad news, but he was no Med-Jack. His only job at this moment was to get the two of them back to the Glade before the doors closed. For the rest of the day, Alby dragged Newt across the ground. For the most part, the Maze was drenched in silence, and Newt’s muffled whimpers of pain eventually faded as the wounded Glader fell into unconsciousness.

Alby was alone, racing against time and infection.

Finally, he reached the final long corridor before the Glade walls. He gave his all into sprinting the last hundred yards, anything to get his fellow Runner to safety. He burst past the doorway right as they were about to close, dragging an injured and pale Newt behind him.

Minho, Keeper of the Runners, and Ben, their current leader, were waiting by the doorway. Their eyes went wide and Minho gasped.

“Well I’ll be shucked!” he screamed over the grinding of the closing doors, “What happened to this poor shank?”

“Don’t ask,” Alby growled, giving the two boys a stern commanding look, “Just get him to Homestead and call the Med-Jacks.”

Ben nodded immediately, intimidated by his own second-in-command, and Minho stared at Newt’s twisted leg in horror before pursing his lips and nodding, “Good that.”

* * *

The world was fuzzy and all Newt felt was pain. His mind wanted to groan, but his body just refused to cooperate. His arm was wrapped in a bandage and splinted and his leg was in agony. Cuts and bruises were scattered all over his body. Aching. Burning. Mocking him for his failure.

Everything hurt.

Mustering all of his energy, Newt let out an agonized moan. A few soft whispers broke out and someone got up from a chair. A voice sounded, louder this time.

“Hey genius? You awake?”

Newt groaned. It was Minho.

“He made it…” another voice.

“He looks like klunk,” yet another.

“Newt,” it was Alby this time, Newt could tell as the world got clearer, “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah…” Newt managed to rasp, despite the fact that every word caused him pain.

“You’re a shuck idiot…” Ben growled and Newt blinked open his eyes, “I hear you threw yourself right off the shuck wall!”

Newt was too tired, confused, pained and angry to deal with this sort of confrontation. Part of him still wanted to be dead, and yet another smaller part felt guilty for trying to commit suicide while all these people obviously cared about him. Minho somehow caught on to Newt’s discomfort and shot Ben a glare.

“Take the other’s out of here, slinthead! He doesn’t need this, and anyway, Alby and I need to talk to him in private.” Reluctantly, Ben led the others out of the room and down the stairs.

Alby looked down at where Newt was lying with concern, “I hate to break it to you buddy, but the Med-Jacks say your leg’s busted for good. You’ll be able to walk, yes, but you’ll never run again.”

“Good that…” Newt mmbled.

Minho narrowed his eyes, “Come again?”

“I’m bloody done with running,” Newt sighed, “I ain’t ever goin’ back in that shuck Maze again…”

There was a silence before Minho sighed, “Oh Newt… what would we do without genius slintheads like you.”

“Slim it, Minho…” Alby muttered, “No one wants your opinion.” Before Minho could shove in a sassy remark, Alby turned to Newt, “I’m next in line to be leader once Ben either gets fed up or kicks the bucket. I could use some help.”

Newt raised an eyebrow weakly, “You want my bloody help? Well you ain’t getting’ it, Alby. I want out of this shuck place one way or another, and I’ll do whatever it takes!” Newt’s words had escalated from grumbled to yells in a very quick amount of time, and Minho shot him a glare.

“NEWT,” Alby interrupted, “You’re mad! You’re a smart guy and we need you around. Heck, we want you around!”

Newt fell silent when Alby paused. It brought a sudden onslaught of tears to the crippled boy’s eyes.

“I feel so bloody stupid…” Newt whispered, wincing again, “I don’t know what my flippin’ purpose is anymore…”

“Your purpose,” Minho explained, “is to help us find our shuck way out, and if you can’t do it by running, you’d best work with Alby so he can save your sorry butt next time you do something stupid.”

“Listen Newt,” Alby insisted, “Both Minho and I agree that we need and want you to stay here, okay? And when you’re all healed up, I wouldn’t want anyone else to be working by my side… understood?”

Newt paused before sighing.

“Good that.”

Alby smiled and Minho laughed, patting Alby heartily on the shoulder, “See Alby? Guy’s not as much of a shuck idiot as we thought!”

“Now try to relax, Newt…” Alby suggested, “I need my new partner-in-crime to be fresh and ready to go when he’s better.”

With the first genuine smile he’d shown in weeks, Newt laughed.

“Good that, boss…”

And he drifted slowly off to sleep.

 **Author's Note:**  Shit son. Sorry this shit got so long, but I really hope you shanks like it. If you do, please reblog and give me some criticism or praise ^^ Any feedback is welcome! Thank you!


End file.
